


here we are bruised and battle scarred (we've cut up our lives trying to put down the knife)

by OsleyaKomWonkru



Series: The Untold Story of Wonkru [13]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Character Death In Dream, Comfort Sex, Dreamed Suicide Attempts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Flashbacks, Gen, Healing, Insomnia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Nightmares, Octavia is a Classics and Literature Nerd, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Talking, Wonkru Heals, chosen family, looking at the stars, unintentional suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsleyaKomWonkru/pseuds/OsleyaKomWonkru
Summary: Even in their peaceful sanctuary on theEligius IV, the past is never far away, scarring each of them in different ways.Octavia has panic attacks that leave her bleeding and broken. Miller has flashbacks that leave him fearing what he could do to those he loves. Niylah has insomnia that leaves her claustrophobic in this box in the sky. Jackson has nightmares that leave him craving the peace the others bring.This family forged in the fires and blood of the bunker saw each other through their darkest days, they'll see each other through the bumpy road of healing that comes afterward.(Read tags and warnings)





	1. Octavia

**Author's Note:**

> So at the end of [all these broken souls each one more beautiful (we will face the odds against us)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943637) I mentioned a variety of the problems afflicting our favourite bunkerfam - this 4-chapter story (I'll post one chapter every two days), each one focusing on a different character, is an expansion of that.
> 
> As you all know, I love my bunkerfam, and I need them to be there for each other <3
> 
>  **Please read tags and warnings.** This first and last chapters in particular, focusing on Octavia and Jackson, contain graphic self-harm and suicidal themes. Practice self-care, and if you're affected by any of the problems that they're dealing with, know you're not alone. Don't be afraid to reach out. If you need music to help you get through the hard times, I recommend the band Icon for Hire - they provide much of my Octavia/Bunkerfam writing soundtrack, and they have many songs that talk about the very real struggles with depression and trauma.
> 
> This fic title is from two Icon for Hire songs - "Get Well II" and "Here We Are". I know I've used their lyrics for other Octavia/Bunkerfam fic titles before (at least two that I can think of), but that's because they just fit so well.
> 
>  
> 
> Trigedasleng:
> 
> Hod op = stop  
> Beja = please  
> Hakom = why  
> Em nou hod op. Ai em gaf in gonot raun. - She would not stop. I want her gone.  
> Chon = who  
> Ai niron = my love  
> Strikon = little one

Octavia sat on the edge of the bathtub, shaking, trying to take deep breaths, struggling to bring any air into her lungs at all.

 _Come on, breathe._ She thought to herself. _Breathe, dammit._

How had she been reduced to this in just a few moments?

It was almost time for dinner. Jackson and Miller were already lounging in the living room, waiting. Niylah had gone to meet Bellamy, Jordan and Madi to get their dinners. Miller didn’t want to see Bellamy yet. Octavia had also been avoiding him, trying to work through her thoughts about him with Niylah’s help. It had only been a few days, but from what Niylah said, Bellamy was constantly asking about her.

_Bellamy._

Thinking of her brother made her panic more, and the _last_ time she hadn’t been able to breathe. It had been him. Him and his poison algae, and him sitting there calmly as he fed it to her, telling her he loved her.

 _What a joke,_ she thought now. _How could he love me and poison me?_

 _He couldn’t separate you from me._ A dark voice whispered in her head. _He thought we were one and the same. He didn’t know I was a mask you wore to protect your people._

“No, no, no.” Octavia rasped out loud. “No. I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need that mask. I don’t need _you_.”

Octavia stood, trying to pace the floor instead, hoping it would contain the shaking and help her to draw oxygen into her lungs, but it didn’t help, it didn’t _help_. All it did was take her past the mirror, the mirror where the reflection was _her_ reflection and she couldn’t take it anymore, she couldn’t take it, driving her fist into the mirror over and over, collapsing to the floor in a shower of mirror shards. Her hands, already slippery with blood as it oozed from her knuckles, scrabbled on the ground to grab onto some of the pieces, the pain already helping her breathe, but it wasn’t enough, _it wasn’t enough,_ she could still feel _her_ crawling into her mind, trying to take it over, though there was no danger to speak of but herself.

Maybe she had always been the danger. Maybe Bellamy had been right in the gorge after all, it was all her fault. It was her and her alone, _she_ was a mask but _she_ was a part of _her_ , and there was nothing she could do but try to cut _her_ out. Get _her_ out, out, so that she could start clean, or die trying.

The sharp press of the glass to her wrists felt like a balm at first, but with each cut the voice grew louder and louder, and it wasn’t until she saw Niylah in front of her, pressing her hands to Octavia’s wrists in desperation to stop the bleeding, that she realized the voice was her own, screaming.

 _“Okteivia, Okteivia, hod op. Beja, ai niron, hod op._ Jackson, I need you!”

 _“Naila?”_ Octavia sobbed.

_“Okteivia, Okteivia, ai niron, hakom?”_

_“Em nou hod op. Ai em gaf in gonot raun.”_

_“Chon? Blodreina?”_

Octavia nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I - I couldn’t breathe. And _she_ started talking to me again. How it was all my fault, everything, it was all because of me -”

“It was _not_ your fault.” Niylah said sternly. “Don’t think that.”

Jackson and Miller stumbled into the room, stopping short in the doorway. Niylah held fast to Octavia’s wrists, but turned to them.

“Good, Jackson, you’re here. I need your help.”

Jackson nodded quickly, pulling two towels from the rack, kneeling next to Octavia and Niylah, winding each one around one of Octavia’s wrists, Niylah helping to hold them in place, shifting to hold Octavia in her arms, Octavia’s back pressed to her chest.

 _“Okteivia,_ give me the glass. _Beja, Okteivia._ Jackson needs to see your hands too.” Niylah whispered into her ear.

Octavia released the vice grip she had on each of the shards of glass, letting Niylah and Jackson pluck them from her grasp. Miller passed Jackson some more towels to wrap around Octavia’s hands.

“Octavia? Octavia, hey.” Jackson said gently, touching her chin, getting Octavia to look up at him. “Can we take you to the infirmary? Some of those cuts are deep, I want to stitch them up, and get some proper bandages.”

Octavia shook her head violently, Niylah tightening her grip around her.

“No.” Octavia said hoarsely. “No. Bellamy might see. No no _no_.”

“Okay. Just give me a few minutes then, to get the supplies. I won’t talk to Bellamy. Will you let me help you here?”

Octavia nodded silently, tears dripping down her face.

“Okay. Good.” Jackson squeezed her shoulder gently, standing up and dashing out the door, with a short whisper to Miller. Miller disappeared out the door for a few moments, and then returned with a broom and dustpan, setting them next to the door, and coming over to where the girls sat among the mirror shards.

“Octavia, can you stand? Niylah and I will help you sit somewhere more comfortable, away from all of this glass, so Jackson can clean you up.”

Octavia nodded again, trying to struggle to her knees, but failing until Miller took her by the elbows and helped her stand, Niylah standing up behind her, making sure to brush any stray shards of glass from their clothing.

“The bed is good.” Niylah said, holding the towels firmly to Octavia’s wrists as Miller helped guide them to the bedroom. They settled back into the same position on the bed, Niylah supporting Octavia’s weight as she started to sob harder.

A look from Niylah to Miller had Miller kneeling beside them, holding the towels in place as Niylah wrapped her arms around Octavia’s waist, whispering under her breath in Trigedasleng into Octavia’s ear. Miller couldn’t catch what she was saying, but it appeared to be having the desired effect, as Octavia’s sobs slowed.

Jackson was almost out of breath when he burst back into the room, arms full of medical supplies that he dumped on the bed, sitting down on the other side of Octavia and Niylah from Miller. Miller passed him Octavia’s closest arm.

Jackson unwound the blood-soaked towel from her wrist, cataloging the damage, deciding what would need stitches and what would not. The longest, deepest cut immediately jumped to his attention.

“Nate, hold pressure on that one again for a minute. I need to get the stitches.”

Miller jumped to obey, holding the towel against Octavia’s delicate wrist, staunching the blood flow as Jackson sorted through the supplies to find what he needed.

“Okay, good. Here we go. This will sting for a moment, Octavia, but I need to do this to help you, okay?”

“Okay.” Octavia whispered. “Do it.”

Octavia winced slightly as the needle went into her skin, but Niylah hummed soothingly into her ear, and Jackson worked quickly, stitching up the wound. After disinfecting each of the cuts and stitching up a second that looked like it could use the help, Jackson wound a clean bandage around her wrist, covering all of the cuts carefully.

Once that was done, Jackson unwound the towel around Octavia’s hand, cleaning each of her knuckles, as well as the gashes on her palm, slipping a clean cotton glove onto her hand.

“Easier than bandaging everything.” Jackson explained. “Please keep that on until morning, then we’ll check on how they’re doing.”

Jackson traded places with Miller to clean up Octavia’s other arm, this wrist having three cuts that necessitated Jackson’s careful stitches. He cleaned and stitched everything up, winding another bandage around this wrist, and after cleaning her hand as well, stitching up one of her knuckles, slipped another clean cotton glove onto it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Jackson asked, looking her over carefully.

Octavia shook her head, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know it is dinnertime and I ruined it.”

“Octavia, nothing is more important than taking care of each other.” Miller said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Sorry, but I’m going to overrule you on that one, _ai niron._ ” Niylah said, kissing Octavia’s temple. “We need to talk about this. This isn’t like when you bled yourself to feed us, or to put on your mask. Those had a purpose and a calculated plan, even if sometimes you were reckless in their application. This was a serious danger. You said you wanted Blodreina gone, and that everything was your fault. I know you can’t believe the second part, at least.”

“Isn’t it? Everything that happened down there was my fault in some way. And everything since we got to the surface - the war - that was all my fault too.”

“You’ve been taking Bellamy’s old words to heart.” Niylah said disapprovingly. _“Ai niron,_ they are not true. Even Bellamy knows that now.”

“Our battle plans would have worked if we hadn’t been betrayed.” Miller said. “They were solid. Echo and the others in the valley were on board with them too. They might not have agreed with going to war, but they weren’t going to skimp on strategy. And the strategy was good. The problem was that Clarke and Kane betrayed us. Gave the battle plans to McCreary. And so we ended up in a massacre. But none of that was your fault, Octavia.”

“I forced our people to march to war. Took away their other choices.”

“Even if you hadn’t burned the farm and we’d stayed in Polis, we’d still be under constant threat.” Jackson reminded them. “McCreary had missiles. It was only a matter of time until he found a way to use them, either by capturing a pilot or someone else learning to fly. As soon as he would have been able, he would have blown us out of the ground. There wouldn’t have been any survivors. And you… we would have lost you even before that.”

“I couldn’t live with the ghosts.” Octavia whispered. “I… I guess I thought if I left the bunker, I’d leave the ghosts. But they’re still here. They follow me everywhere. _She_ follows me everywhere. We were asleep for over a hundred years, and _she’s_ still there.”

“Cryosleep was a pause, not a rest.” Niylah said. “She wasn’t going to disappear in that time, any more than your injuries were going to heal while in that state. That’s why we’re awake now, and not still in cryosleep. It is not as easy as going to sleep for a hundred years and having all of those demons disappear. You need to face them. We all need to face them, we all have them.”

“None of you are smashing mirrors and slicing yourselves up.”

“Everyone responds to trauma in different ways.” Jackson said. “You don’t need to be ashamed of how you respond. But you do need to understand it, so that you get better as time goes on. I’ll always be here to stitch you up, but I’d really rather it not be necessary. Okay? You can count on me. You can count on all of us.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Niylah said, rubbing Octavia’s shoulders. “Now, let’s talk about Blodreina. What was that moment like?”

“She… how Bellamy couldn’t separate me from her. How he didn’t know that she was a mask I wore to do what needed to be done. He thought she was _me._ How could he think that? He’s known me my entire life. What if Blodreina _is_ who I am then? If he can’t separate me from her, maybe that means I am her.”

“Shhhhhh.” Niylah whispered, continuing to rub soothing circles into Octavia’s shoulders. “You are not her. We know that. Bellamy still has to learn that. You were apart for six years. There was so much he didn’t see, that he didn’t understand, that he’s only starting to understand now. And some of it he may never understand, since he wasn’t there. But he is working hard not to judge you anymore. To try to understand what life was like for you.”

“Has Blodreina ever scared you?” Octavia asked. “Be honest. Please.”

“No.” Niylah said simply. “Because I knew she would never hurt me. I knew that all of you loved all of me, and that included her. She was born out of love. We know that.”

“I thought others did too. And yet they still abandoned me.”

“Don’t worry about Indra and Gaia.” Miller said. “They had their own agendas. You were a symbol for what you could do for them. We’re here only for you. We were there for you in the bunker, and we’re here for you now. Not for what you could do for us, but for you.”

Jackson and Niylah nodded in agreement.

 _“Ai niron,_ how did this start today?” Niylah asked. “I want to know, so I can try and help you if you feel you’re getting to that point again one day.”

“I… I’m not sure. Everything was fine, and you went to get dinner, then I started feeling like I couldn’t breathe. And I panicked, because the last time that happened was, well, when Bellamy poisoned me. And I continued panicking, and _she_ started talking to me, and I saw _her_ in the mirror, and… and I needed her to go. To get out of me.”

“Okay, can you promise me something, _Okteivia?_ I know you keep your promises.”

“I’ll try.”

“If you start feeling like that again, that you can’t breathe, if I’m not here, please don’t stay here in the room, go find someone else and tell them. Jackson, Miller, you’d sit with her and help her breathe again, right?”

“Of course we would.” They both said.

“Right now, I think at least one of us will always be in the suite, but if for some reason we’re not, and you don’t want your brother and can’t find any of us, you should seek out Madi. She’s a bright girl, and with the Commanders in her head, I think she’d be able to help you if needed. Promise me, _strikon,_ that you’ll find someone.”

“I will.”

“Good. We’re here for you, _Okteivia._ Through the good and the bad. We always will be.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Octavia put back together for the moment, as Miller cleans up the bathroom, something is not as it should be...


	2. Miller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miller starts experiencing flashbacks of their time in the bunker.

They started the same night Octavia had her fight with the mirror, shards of glass scattered across the bathroom tiles, blood flowing from her wrists and hands.

Jackson had stepped out of the suite to return most of the medical supplies to the infirmary - he’d grabbed all sorts of things in his haste to help Octavia - and Niylah was tucking Octavia into the security of their bed. Miller took the broom and dustpan that he’d brought in earlier to sweep up all of the glass, so the women wouldn’t injure themselves when they had need of the room again.

The glass was easy to find, the shards and scattered fragments reflecting in the flares of space, soaking up the light and sending it into the stark white of the room, reflecting rainbows on the white tiles. Focusing on a simple task like this helped calm some of Miller’s nerves, that had been set alight in his worry for Octavia and her potentially unintentional attempt on her own life.

He disposed of the glass, but made a face at the floor - the glass was gone, but ugly smears of blood - Octavia’s blood - remained swiped across the tiles. Miller got another towel, soaking up some water from the tap, and began cleaning it up so it wouldn’t stain the white tiles. Octavia didn’t need that reminder every time she came into the room.

As he cleaned, though, he kept being reminded of the other times he’d spent cleaning blood off the floor. It happened frequently enough in the bunker, especially the early days, until eventually they’d given up. The floor of the atrium was permanently stained with blood, now. Had been. It didn’t exist anymore, Miller tried to remind himself. He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to push the memories away. They weren’t there anymore. They wouldn’t ever be back there again. They wouldn’t ever have to see that place again.

But the images weren’t going away. The white tiles of the bathroom floor on the _Eligius IV_ became the cold concrete of the bunker, and no matter how hard Miller scrubbed, the blood wouldn’t go away. It wouldn’t stop, and more seemed to pile on the more he tried to get it away.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to himself, the floor under his knees white tile again, the blood almost gone. He looked up into Niylah’s worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asked, a marked tone of concern in her voice.

“I - I don’t know.” He said honestly. “I - I just - for a moment, I wasn’t here anymore. I was back - back in the bunker.”

Niylah frowned, and took Miller’s hand, the one where he was clenching the bloodstained towel, and worked his fingers loose, taking the towel from him.

“Maybe you should let me finish doing this.” Niylah said carefully. “Go sit down on the bed for a minute. Catch your breath, gather your thoughts.”

“What about Octavia?”

“She’s resting right now, but needs someone close to her. You won’t disturb her, trust me. Go. I’ve got this.”

Miller nodded absently, standing up and moving into the women’s bedroom. He sat down next to where Octavia was curled up, and she noted the vacant look in his eye, reaching one of her gloved hands out to him without a word. He nodded and took it, resting their joined grips in his lap.

What had that been? He wondered. Would it happen again? Could anything remind him of the bunker, if he thought on it too long? Everything he had, everything he was, everything around him - was of the bunker. They may have been in a space ship light years away from the place, but it still lived within him, including in all he held dear. Jackson - they’d flirted outside of the bunker, but their relationship only became a real tangible thing once the bunker doors had closed. Their closest friends, Octavia and Niylah, also friendships forged in the fires of the bunker.

As much as they wanted to leave the bunker behind, could they ever? Would they ever? If all they were, if all the personal connections they had, were born of it - would they ever be free? But he couldn’t lose them. He didn’t have anyone else. He didn’t _want_ anyone else.

“Miller. _Miller._ Miller, please. It hurts. You’re hurting me.” Octavia’s voice echoed through his head, and he tried to find his way to where her voice was, but all he could see was her office in the bunker, where they’d made their promises to each other after the first gladiator fights, but her voice there didn’t sound like it did now.

“Nathan!” Came the sharp tone of Niylah’s voice. She rarely raised her voice, and that serious tone broke him out and brought him back to the present.

He looked down at his lap, where he was clutching Octavia’s hand tightly, _too_ tightly, he realized now, given the fresh cuts and scrapes she had. He dropped her hand like it was on fire, moving away from her, breathing getting ragged as he tried to process what was going on.

“What’s happening to me?” Miller gasped out between ragged breaths. “I’m so sorry, Octavia. I don’t - I don’t know what’s happening.”

“He’s having another flashback.” Niylah said. “Just like in the bathroom. Am I right, Nathan?”

“Is that what it is?”

“You’re seeing the past, and can’t separate it from the present, yes?”

“Something like that.”

Niylah nodded. “Yes. I remember reading about them in one of the books.”

Octavia shifted closer, carefully, gingerly, resting a hand on Miller’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I know what they’re like. I - I had them sometimes. In the bunker.”

“You did?” Niylah said, concerned.

“Not often. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, _ai niron,_ but - I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You know I always worry. I won’t stop worrying.” Niylah frowned again. “And now, it seems, we need to worry about both of you. Nathan, how long has this been happening?”

“Just - just in the bathroom. It hasn’t happened before that. I mean, I remember the events of the past, just - they never took over like that, if you know what I mean.”

Niylah nodded. “But this could be a sign of more to come. If that gate has been opened - when is Eric going to be back? He’ll be of more help here.”

“I’m here.” Jackson said, appearing through the door. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nathan is having flashbacks.” Niylah said. “Two in the past few minutes. One when cleaning the blood off the floor in the bathroom, the other sitting here. He hurt Octavia.”

“He didn’t mean to.” Octavia pleaded. “Don’t blame him. Please. I’m fine.”

“I shouldn’t be around people.” Miller whispered. “I don’t know what I could do if these keep happening.”

“We’re not leaving you, Nate.” Jackson said, reaching for Miller’s hands and holding them tightly. “But Octavia’s right, Niylah. I know you’re worried for her, but casting blame right now doesn’t help anyone. He needs all of us.”

“Sorry. I - we’re all on edge right now. I’m just -”

“Shhhh.” Octavia whispered, pulling Niylah down to kiss her softly. “The only way we get through this is if we all take a step back and breathe. Breathe, _ai niron._ I’m - well, I’m not _fine,_ but - I’ll be all right. But I need all of you here. We all need each other. Which means we can’t tear into each other for things outside of our control.”

“Okay. Okay.” Niylah said. “I’m sorry.”

Octavia nodded, resting her forehead against Niylah’s for a moment before turning back to Miller.

“How are you feeling right now?” Octavia asked, resting her chin on Miller’s shoulder.

“I - I don’t know.”

“Are you with us? Here? Or are we somewhere else?”

“Here. I think. On the _Eligius IV._ ”

“Okay. That’s good. We’ll start there. What were you thinking about when you disappeared?”

“I - the second time, about how even though we’re out of the bunker, we can’t leave it behind.”

“What do you mean?” Jackson asked.

“Because - because it isn’t just about the bad memories. The memories of all of the horrible things we saw, did and witnessed. Those we can try to forget even though parts will always stay with us, but then there are the good memories. The ones I don’t want to erase. There’s you.” Miller looked Jackson in the eye. “Everything - everything we have grew in the bunker. And both of you -” Miller looked to Niylah and Octavia. “We can’t forget the bunker. We can’t leave it behind. Not without leaving each other behind too. Is that something you want to do? I know I don’t. If I did that, I’d - we’d all be alone.”

“I don’t want that either.” Octavia whispered. “So what then? We have to accept the bad with the good?”

“It is the only way.” Niylah said. “I never thought about it like that, but yes. It’s true.” Jackson nodded in agreement.

“But that means that anything runs the risk - the risk of what we just saw.” Miller’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to risk hurting any of you.”

“Miller, that only hurt because my hand was already injured.” Octavia said sympathetically. “Any other day, wouldn’t be an issue. And you let go, no harm done.”

“But what if next time there is?” Miller asked. “I - I’m dangerous.”

“You’re not dangerous.” Jackson said. “We just - we just need a safe environment.”

“A safe environment?” Niylah raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure we’re getting any safer here. This is what we have.”

“He means making sure there aren’t any potentially dangerous objects in the vicinity.” Octavia said. “Though - I guess I thought there weren’t any dangerous objects around, but I clearly made my own, so -”

“The mirror should be safe.” Miller said dully. “I - I don’t have a thing with mirrors like you do. No memories associated with them.”

“Okay.” Jackson said. “Do you want to come to bed? Or do you want to eat dinner? Niylah brought dinner for us awhile ago, but with everything - we haven’t had it yet.”

“We need to eat.” Niylah said. “Come on. Everyone up. And at least algae shouldn’t trigger any memories.”

“If we’d had algae, then we probably wouldn’t be as screwed up as we are.” Octavia muttered. “But too late now.”

“No point in could have beens, _ai niron.”_ Niylah said, standing up and bringing Octavia with her. “No point in any of them. Come on.”

Jackson pulled Miller to his feet, and they all headed to the common area, where Niylah ladled out a bowl of algae for each of them. They all grimaced as they drank it down, not used to the taste, but were thankful that it was what it was, and not anything they’d had to survive in the bunker.

Miller dropped his bowl to the table last, silently looking at the sticky green substance that would stick to the edges of the bowl. He frowned when he noticed that it didn’t seem to be doing that at all this time, in fact he didn’t see any remnants of algae in his bowl - just the faint whispers of vegetables and herbs along the edges, the broth they’d drank with -

Miller squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table tightly with his fingers. It was happening again. Even eating, this most innocuous thing - should have been innocuous, should have been fine - and he remembered how the broth was there on their trays to wash away the taste of the cubes of human flesh on their plates, the substance they’d reduced down as well as they could to make it not look like it was people, even though they all knew it was. It was made not to look like human flesh, but also not made to taste enjoyable in any way - a necessary evil, they’d called it.

He could taste it again, the days upon weeks upon months when they’d been called upon to eat human flesh for dinner. The other meals of the day they were spared the necessity, but - every dinner for a year, he could remember the taste of it, could feel it welling up in his mouth as it had the first times they’d fought their gag reflexes to do it, had this somehow followed them onto the ship? Would they ever be rid of such a taste or would it permeate their senses for the rest of their lives?

“Nate. Nate.” A faint whisper of Jackson’s voice floated on the edge of his consciousness. _“Nathan._ You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Nate, talk to me. Please.”

“He’s back in his memories again.” This time Niylah’s voice. “I think we all know which ones.”

“I can’t.” Miller whispered, stumbling back from the table. “It’s here. It’s still here. It’s everywhere.”

“Nate.” Jackson said again, and Miller felt warm arms closing in around him. “Nate, it isn’t here. We don’t need to do that anymore. Come back to me. Please.”

The memory faded out abruptly, and Miller found himself back in the common area of the _Eligius IV_ suite. Jackson was behind him, arms wrapped around him tightly. Niylah and Octavia were still sitting at the table, Niylah watching him carefully, Octavia looking resolutely at the table, looking as if she wished she could fade out of existence. Any mentions of the Dark Year, and she’d shut down. Unless she brought it up, the others knew not to mention it unless absolutely necessary.

“It won’t stop.” Miller choked out. “I can’t stop it. Everything just - they’re everywhere - I can’t stop it.”

Jackson turned him in his arms so that they were pressed forehead to forehead. “They will pass.” He said resolutely. “I don’t know how long it will take, but they will pass. I promise you. You won’t be trapped in them forever.”

“I wish that were true.”

“It will be. Come on. Let’s take you to bed. Come on.”

Miller let Jackson guide him to the bedroom, stood patiently as he stripped them both of their clothes, guiding him under the sheets in just his underwear. Jackson curled in behind him, pressing kisses to his shoulder blade.

“This is okay, isn’t it? No bad memories?” Jackson whispered.

“Never.”

“Good. Then let’s stay here for awhile. Ride out the storm.”

Miller nodded, searching out Jackson’s hand, and pulling an arm over him, trying to feel warm and safe in his embrace.

* * *

Miller awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up abruptly in bed. Somehow, Jackson still slumbered on peacefully beside him, letting out little snores that usually made him smile, that he’d later tease the man he loved about.

He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about. Just that it was something he distinctly _didn’t_ want to dream about. He pushed those thoughts away, focusing on something, _anything,_ that wasn’t associated with the bunker. He saw space out the window, and focused on that. The stars had been something they hadn’t seen for six years, and now they were everywhere.

Feeling confined and trapped, despite the comfortable surroundings, Miller knew he needed more of the stars. More of open space. So he slipped out of bed, padding into the living room, sitting down in the window box. Now he understood why Octavia liked sitting there so much. The reassurance that the miles of concrete and steel of the bunker were far far away, a distant memory, if it could ever be as distant as they wanted.

“It’s comforting, isn’t it? The stars?” came a voice, and Miller suddenly realized - having been so caught up in watching the stars that he’d missed her earlier - that the window box had already been partially occupied.

Octavia was curled up in the far corner, her slim frame almost vanishing into the gloomy darkness of the dark room.

“Does Niylah know you’re not in bed where you’re supposed to be?”

“Does Jackson?” She countered.

“Fair.” Miller sighed. “I can’t help but feel we’re such a burden on them.”

“I know the feeling. But you know what I also know?”

“What’s that?”

“They carry the pain of what we went through too. There will come a day where we take care of them the way they’ve taken care of us. And when that day comes - we can’t let them down, Miller. For everything they’ve done for us - we have to be there for them, a hundred and ten percent. No matter how fucked up we feel even on a good day, we need to be there.”

“Yeah. I just hope I won’t let him down.”

“You think I’ll let you?”

Miller smiled. “I guess you won’t.”

“Damn right I won’t. And I get how terrified you’re feeling right now. I - I haven’t told Niylah this, but I’m starting to regain memories from - from when I had lost myself. Dissociated, whatever the technical term for it was. After Bellamy poisoned me. Before they went into the arena - I remember standing there, in the pit, and I was having flashbacks. Like you are. Of the different fights, of - of my childhood, with Bellamy, and - it was all so real. I almost disappeared in them. But you know how I didn’t? Besides already having lost my mind?”

“How?”

“Focus on the little differences. It might all seem like you’re back to where you were, but zero in on those minute differences that make it not the same. Because it won’t be. Search for that clue, it’ll be hidden there somewhere. If you let your mind paint it too close to the past - it’s game over. You’ll need someone else to bring you out. And sometimes that might have to happen. But to pull yourself out, look for the differences.”

Miller nodded. “Okay. I’ll try that. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

They sat in silence for hours, staring out into space. Despite the calm it brought, he couldn’t sleep. And he knew that Octavia was also still awake, he could see her reflection in the glass, starlight occasionally glinting in her eyes.

That is where Niylah and Jackson found them, come morning. Jackson had awoken first, bursting out of the room in a panic, throwing on all the lights as he looked for Miller, relaxing as he saw him sitting there calmly. Niylah made her way into the living area a few minutes later, rubbing at her eyes sleepily, without the same panic as Jackson, heading straight for the window box to give Octavia a kiss. Evidently this nighttime prowl to the window box was a habit for Octavia.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Jackson asked, pulling Miller out of the window box for a hug.

“Better. The - looking at space helps. Because that’s something we didn’t have.”

“Good. That’s good.” Jackson pressed a kiss to the side of Miller’s head and turned to Octavia. “How are your wrists? Can I take a look?”

“Sure.” Octavia stretched an arm out for his inspection.

Miller stepped back to let Jackson work. First Jackson pulled off the glove to inspect the tiny wounds on Octavia’s hand and palms, nodding to himself, and then slipped the glove back on.

“If you don’t need your hands free, then keep these on.” Jackson said. “And if you do take them off, be sure to wash your hands well before putting them back on.”

Octavia nodded in understanding as Jackson unwound the bandage on her first wrist, making a disapproving noise with his tongue.

“I think I need to put another stitch in one of these.” He said. “But I took the stitches back to the infirmary. Nate? Would you be able to get them? Top shelf of the cabinet closest to the door.”

Miller nodded, moving towards the door of the suite, but when his hand touched the door handle his hand started shaking, as he felt the cool metal between his fingers, the cool metal that characterized many of the doors in the bunker too, especially _that_ door, the door in medbay, where he’d almost watched the man he loved skewered through the heart by a dagger, a dagger that had only been stopped by Octavia’s foolhardy disregard for her own life.

_Little details._ Miller told himself, remembering what Octavia had said just hours earlier. _Little details. Come on, Nate. You can do this._

He opened his eyes, but his hand seemed glued to the door, and there he saw nothing but what he’d seen before, the door to medbay, that he’d slammed closed so Jackson could work on Niylah and Octavia. But it was different. It had to be.

Quiet. It was quiet here, in the suite, Miller told himself. That day in the bunker, it had been chaos. Chaos as people had seen Octavia carry an unconscious Niylah through the halls of the bunker. They’d identified the perpetrator, that’s when Miller had closed the doors. But it was chaos, and there was no chaos now.

Miller let go of the handle, dropping back against the wall of the suite, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them again, seeing the living area as it was, Niylah, Jackson and Octavia on the other side of the room by the window box. He was here. He wasn’t anywhere else.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Niylah asked, observing him carefully.

“Yeah.” Miller panted as he struggled for breath. “I - I’m sorry. I don’t think I can leave here right now.”

“I’ll go get the stitches then.” Niylah said. “Breathe, Nate. Panic will only make it worse. You need to breathe.”

“Trying.” He said, as she disappeared out the door.

Octavia and Jackson both came up to him, worry plain on their faces. Miller looked at Octavia and reached towards her, running his finger over the scar that was visible in her shoulder next to the strap of her tank top.

“You were remembering that day.” Octavia said, a statement, not a question. She looked towards the door. “The door handle. I remember that day vividly too.”

Miller nodded, dropping his hand from her shoulder and looking at Jackson. “I almost lost you that day.”

“But you didn’t.” Jackson said softly. “You didn’t. I’m right here.”

“Yeah.” Miller dropped his forehead to Jackson’s shoulder, feeling his boyfriend start to rub comforting circles on his back, assuring him of his presence.

Miller raised his head a fraction of an inch, meeting Octavia’s eyes over Jackson’s shoulder. “I’m not sure I ever thanked you enough.” He said as she raised an eyebrow.

“Trust me, you did. You almost broke my hand, you were so thankful.”

“Sorry. I feel like I’m saying that a lot.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. Saving his life - _any_ of your lives, all of your lives - I’d do it again. And again. You know I’d do anything for you three.”

“We know.” Miller and Jackson said in unison, turning to bring Octavia into their hug as well.

They still stood like that when Niylah returned, stitches in hand. She set them down on the table and joined them without a word, soaking in the peace that they had in these small moments.

When the moment was up, Miller stepped back, a look to Jackson, telling him to get back to what he was doing before Miller’s flashback interrupted everything.

Jackson nodded, picking up the stitches and motioning to Octavia, who took a seat on the couch, letting Jackson stitch up another spot in her wrist. Miller continued hovering by the door, not sure what to do.

Niylah noticed his hesitation, his lack of clarity of how to proceed.

“You were in that window as long as Octavia was, weren’t you?” She asked.

“I… I don’t know? She was already there when I arrived.”

“Probably not that long after her. You need some rest. Let me help you. Come on.” She headed for the men’s bedroom, and turned back to look at him when he didn’t follow. “Coming?”

Miller looked at her oddly, confused about what was happening, and Niylah laughed. “While I’m glad that that’s the sort of thing your mind is going to, because that already means your thoughts are, for the moment, in a better place - no. Nothing like that. I’m a one-woman woman.”

Miller chuckled and shook his head in relief and amusement. “Right. Of course. Sorry. Lead the way.”

He followed Niylah into his and Jackson’s bedroom, and while he knew now that Niylah hadn’t been propositioning him, he wasn’t sure what she intended that needed the bedroom for that.

“Lie down.” Niylah commanded. “Under the covers, come on.”

Miller followed her directions, moving into the middle of the bed, while Niylah sat down next to him, running her hand over his scalp, her fingernails scratching through his hair. “Now just listen and let yourself relax and sleep.”

Niylah started singing softly in Trigedasleng. Miller didn’t catch all of the words, but he heard enough that he could tell it was a lullaby. While part of him wanted to protest at being sung a lullaby when he was a grown man, another part of him did want that sleep that Niylah was talking about, and it hit him just how tired he was.

So he let himself relax, focusing only on the soft movement of Niylah’s fingers across his head, and the sound of her voice. He did feel himself drifting off, into a sleep that brought some measure of peace. Though when waking, the flashbacks returned, harder than ever.

(But whenever Jackson had calmed him down and the screaming stopped, he would ask for Niylah, because though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, her lullabies were what would finally let him sleep. Her lullabies and the warm touch of Jackson holding him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Miller's flashbacks start to fade, he's surprised to see Niylah in the window box one night instead of Octavia...


	3. Niylah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niylah can't sleep, and looks for ways to cope in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the _Eligius IV._

As Octavia was sleeping more, Niylah was sleeping less.

It wasn’t her fault, she knew that it had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t stealing her sleep, but the last weeks (spread over centuries) started to catch up with her, and after days of dealing with Octavia’s and Miller’s living nightmares, it appeared it was time for her own.

And so it was that after hours of lying in bed, watching Octavia’s steady breathing, frustration mounting with every minute that her eyelids refused to get heavy, Niylah stole out of bed and headed to the window box that had quickly become everyone’s nighttime refuge if they couldn’t sleep.

She sat in the window for hours, hand pressed to the glass, observing the stars beyond. She wasn’t used to having a barrier between herself and the stars. Those who were Ark-born like Octavia, Miller and Jackson weren’t bothered by it, but she was. Living in the bunker had been difficult enough, but up here? Being so close to what she knew but still so very far away from it? It was frustrating.

“Not the nighttime companion I usually expect.”

Niylah started from the sound of Miller’s voice, and she looked away from the stars to see Miller’s silhouette as he moved closer, taking a seat across from her in the window box.

“Octavia’s sound asleep. Meanwhile I can’t. I don’t know why.”

“It happens.”

“It’s just - we’re so close to the life I’ve known, the stars, the planet there - but so horribly far from it, this isn’t like the bunker, where I couldn’t see my old life. But here I can see it, and not being able to have it, and being cooped up in this box - it just might drive me mad in a way the bunker didn’t.”

Milled nodded. “I get it. The rest of us are used to space, even if we hated it. You’re not. It’s different for you.”

“How did you bear it?”

“Well, for starters, we didn’t know any different. Being born and raised on the Ark - going to Earth was the new and terrifying experience. At least I grew up with windows. Octavia didn’t even have them until she was sixteen.”

“She’s said that. I can’t imagine living my life confined like she was. Or even trapped in a space station like all of Skaikru was. It just seems so unbelievable to me to exist in this very tiny amount of space, never seeing what is beyond it.”

“After months on the ground, I don’t know how we did it either, to be honest. But we had to. We thought we were all that was left of the human race.”

“Many people have thought that. They’ve always been wrong. Humanity is a lot more resilient than we think.”

“So it appears, with this whole new planet here.”

“Even when you were used to the Ark - didn’t you ever just want to run away? Be a space apart from everything you knew?”

“Constantly. I could never do it, but you know what helped? Before I was sent to lockup, that is?”

“What was that?”

“If I couldn’t leave, I still wouldn’t stay. Staying isolated in one room was the worst - I know, I know that’s what I’ve been doing this past week, but, well - so I would get out. Get out of my family’s quarters, and roam the station. Just walk. Sometimes for hours.”

“You wouldn’t get bored, walking by the same spots every day?”

“Oh, sure. But it was better than staring at the same one spot on the wall of our room.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“I know it is. Come on. Let’s go.”

Niylah looked to the door of the suite. “Are you sure? You haven’t been out in a week.”

“I think helping you with this will help me too.”

Niylah thought about it and nodded. “Okay. But if I make any mention of being sleepy, make sure to bring me back here immediately.”

Miller reached out a hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it and stood up, both shrugging into robes that had been abandoned on the couch earlier that day. There were still only the seven of them awake on the ship, but Niylah didn’t want to accidentally encounter Bellamy only wearing her undergarments.

Niylah followed Miller to the door, making sure he was the one to open it, since it was important for him to deal with this memory trigger that had set off flashbacks for him on numerous occasions over the past week. But it seemed that this round of flashbacks (for Niylah was certain it wasn’t the end of them) had passed, for while Miller hesitated reaching for the handle, once his hand was on it, the door was open, and she followed him out into the hallway.

“Which way?” Niylah asked.

Miller motioned to the right, and she fell into step with him as he headed in that direction.

“This ship is smaller then the Ark.” Miller said. “And not as many nooks and crannies to get into either.”

“Did you use those to play hide and seek as a child?”

Miller smiled fondly. “Yeah. Grownups didn’t like it, and we’d keep games as quiet as we could, only per station rather than Ark-wide so it wouldn’t be as obvious, but yeah. Crawling into unauthorized places was one of my favourite things. Did you play?”

“Yes. But not with many children. Just with my brother.”

“I’m sorry.” Miller whispered, knowing the story of what had happened to Niylah’s brother. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It was a long time ago, now.” Niylah said. “And many years - both of time and space - away. There once was a time I had nightmares of that day on a regular basis, but I haven’t had those nightmares in years now. Not since our own days of blood and terror.”

Miller looked at his feet, feeling guilty as he did each time someone brought up the violence of the bunker. He had been Octavia’s right hand for years, there was almost as much blood on his hands as on hers. Even Jackson and Niylah’s hands weren’t clean. They’d all had their parts to play in making sure their people survived.

Niylah noticed his silence, and stopped walking, stopping Miller with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s over. We survived.”

“Did we?” Miller asked. “I’m not entirely sure we did. Octavia’s a wreck. So am I. You and Jackson have been holding it together for the most part, but if even you’re starting to crack under stress… what does that mean for the rest of us?”

“I can’t sleep, Nate. That’s a far cry from what you and Octavia have been going through. I was so terrified when I found Octavia in a pool of her own blood, and how every few nights since she wakes up screaming and tearing her bandages off and it starts again - I’m not going through anything like that.”

“You are going through it though. You’re there, with her, with us, and that takes its toll on you too. That’s why we agreed to do this together - help each other heal, so we can each have our moments where we are the ones who need help.”

“I know, but my hurts seem so insignificant compared to hers. And even then most of mine involve her being hurt in some way.”

“You love her. Being there for the people we love is what we do.”

“Being there - Nate, we have to go back.” Niylah started to panic. “I haven’t checked on her in hours, I was too wrapped up in the stars. What if she needs me? What if she’s having her nightmares again? We have to go back.”

Niylah turned and ran back down the hall towards their suite, listening for Octavia’s voice, worried that she might have already missed the screaming and that it was too late, that it would be too late…

She burst through the door of the suite at top speed, dashing to their door, opening it slowly, trying to calm her breath. She focused her eyes on the bed.

Octavia slept on, her expression peaceful as she curled around a pillow. Niylah could see her back rising and falling with each breath she took. The bandages on the arm she could see seemed secure and safe.

Niylah took a few deep breaths, trying to relax. Octavia was all right. There was nothing to worry about. She was fine.

Miller came up beside her, looking in on Octavia as well, and nodded, closing the door, though Niylah’s hand was still on the handle.

“She’s fine.” Miller whispered. “She’s okay.”

“I still worry.”

“And you always will. You love her. It’s normal. And since she’s fine, that means you can also relax. You also need to take care of yourself too, not just her. Come on.”

Miller led Niylah back to the window box, where they took seats in it again, looking out to the stars.

“Did you have names for the constellations? Of the stars, I mean?” Miller asked.

“Of course. I’m not sure if they’re the same ones that the old world used. We had the North Star, and there were many shapes of animals and weapons that radiated off from it. I’m not sure what we will have here though.”

“Let’s create some of our own.” Miller suggested. “Take a look out there, what do you see?”

Niylah peered out of the window more intently, looking for a shape in the myriad of stars in their field of vision. There were so many, but she picked out some brighter ones and tried to focus them into a shape.

“I see… a girl on a horse. The horse is running, and the girl has long hair flowing out behind her.”

“You’re going to name that one Octavia, aren’t you?” Miller said wryly.

“Seems appropriate. Your turn.”

“I see… a wheel. A wheel, spinning in the sky.”

“Interesting. What will you name it?”

“Progress.”

“A unique choice.”

“I choose to believe that we’ll find ourselves again. It’s hard, but - we will. We will have peace.”

“I try to tell myself that every day. I tell Octavia that every day too. But sometimes - sometimes I worry that it is all just a dream.”

“It won’t be. It will be real.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“We have to convince each other. That’s the only way any of this works.”

“Niylah?” came a sleepy voice.

Niylah turned to see Octavia standing in the door of their room, rubbing her eyes.

_“Ai niron.”_ Niylah whispered, going over to her and rubbing her back. “I’m sorry, were we too loud?”

“No. I just woke up and you weren’t there.”

“I can’t sleep, _strikon._ I didn’t want to disturb your sleep by tossing and turning.”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “No.”

“It’s not tragic, _Okteivia._ Just a bit of insomnia. I’ll be fine.”

“Niylah, tell her the truth. Don’t keep it in.” Miller said.

“Okay, fine… I… I do feel somewhat claustrophobic in here. Seeing the stars, but having these walls between us… in the bunker, I couldn’t see my old life. Here I can, and… and it’s hard.”

Octavia wrapped her arms around Niylah, kissing the side of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

“Let me help you.” Octavia said. “You’ve been helping me. Let me try to help you sleep.”

“Okay. I could rest, at least.”

Octavia nodded against her shoulder, placing another kiss there. “Come on.”

Niylah said her goodbyes to Miller and followed Octavia back into their bedroom, curling up in the bed with Octavia pressed to her back, the other girl’s mouth leaving kisses along her neck and shoulders.

_“Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace; four happy days bring in another moon; but, oh, methinks, how slow this old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, like to a step-dame or a dowager, long withering out a young man’s revenue.”_ Octavia whispered in her ear.

“Are you proposing marriage or just quoting _A Midsummer’s Night Dream_ at me?” Niylah asked with a chuckle.

“Well, _A Midsummer’s Night Dream_ is your favourite. I thought it could help. As to the rest - aren’t we forever?” Octavia’s eyes were wide open and, if Niylah could believe it, even looked innocent. Though Octavia had never been innocent to her eyes.

“Of course we are, _ai niron._ I’ll be with you until the end of our days. Don’t doubt that. Now if you want to formalize that on the new planet, in however way that is done or could be done, I will also do that. I love you.”

“I don’t need any big ceremony or anything, like in the books we’ve read, but… I can’t imagine a life without you.”

“You don’t need to.” Niylah assured her. “I’m right here.”

“You are. So now relax, and let me read to you.”

“You don’t have the book here.”

“Details. You know what I mean. I don’t need the book here to be able to tell it to you.”

“Fine, yes, I acquiesce. Please, continue on with your story.”

“Good.” Octavia planted a long kiss on Niylah’s shoulder and continued. _“Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; four days will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow, new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.”_

To her credit, Octavia tried. And Niylah was able to lose herself in the familiar and comforting story, following the adventures of the characters she loved so dearly.

But still the sleep didn’t come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niylah's back in her bed at night, but Jackson's screams wake them in the early hours...


	4. Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson starts to experience violent nightmares, and relies on his family to get him through them.
> 
> **Warning:** Depictions of suicide in dreams, don't think this counts as "major character death" since no one dies for real, but if you're sensitive to suicidal themes, skip Jackson's dreams (in italics), and this has been retagged as "Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings" to account for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in the summary, **warning for depictions of suicide.** In a dream, so no one actually dies, but take care reading these themes if they're personal for you. Practice self-care, and like these four do, talk things out with people you trust. You are loved!
> 
> Also, should mention that just like I headcanon Octavia as bisexual, I headcanon Jackson as bisexual too (for all that these labels matter in a post-apocalyptic world). There is a brief mention of that in this chapter, as well as non-explicit Mackson sex.
> 
> Trigedasleng:
> 
> Yu laik ku? - Are you okay?  
> Sha, ai niron - Yes, my love

The nightmares always started out so innocuously. But they never ended that way. And this time - they were even worse.

Jackson was no stranger to nightmares. His first days on Earth, his first days in the bunker - they were all plagued with nightmares of the stressful and horrible events that had led up to the new situation.

After arriving on Earth, it had been the stress of the last days of the Ark, the failing systems, the Unity Day attack, blood and more blood and death hovering above them if even the slightest thing went wrong.

After arriving in the bunker, it had been the memories of what they’d done on Becca’s island - testing Nightblood on a living breathing human being, and watching that test go so horribly wrong, the man’s life ending in screaming tortured pain.

And Jackson had done that.

On Abby’s orders, but he knew as well as they all did that it didn’t matter who gave the order, you still felt it. Octavia also suffered under the weight of the burdens she carried because of Abby’s orders.

That time, he hadn’t been alone. Miller had been there, in the bunkroom, with him, to soothe the nightmares away. And when that public spectacle became too much - for he knew his screams had woken the whole room - they’d disappeared to that private room in medbay, and Miller had made him forget his own name.

It had been a long time since anyone had cared about Jackson like that. But Miller had been adamant that they had to take care of each other. Take care of each other, take care of Octavia, and soon Niylah also joined their little family - and things had been all right. Bearable, even. Even in the face of so much darkness, their little family endured, and sometimes it felt like everything would be all right.

So why was it now, that they were safe, with none of the worries of the bunker or the ground in front of them, that the nightmares were back? Back, and even worse than ever?

_Blood. So much blood. Dripping from thigh wounds, arm wounds, wounds to the gut that were glancing enough that the person survived the arena, they were the last - but they only made it as far as medbay before they fell, and their fight was still over._

Jackson woke up screaming, images flashing through his head of the fighting pits, the injuries he’d sewn up, the injuries that were beyond his capabilities to heal, beyond anyone’s capabilities - the cases where all he could do was ease someone’s suffering as they passed from this world.

A few times, he’d even sped up that process, not that he’d admitted it to anyone. But if someone was beyond saving, was it not more merciful to not let them suffer? Wasn’t it their job as doctors to ease suffering?

He hadn’t even told Miller, but he remembered them all clearly. He remembered each person whose suffering he had ended. Thirteen in all, perhaps not a huge amount compared to the blood that stained Miller’s hands, stained Octavia’s hands - but it was there nonetheless.

He was alone in bed when he woke up, though Miller barreled in the door a few seconds later, having heard his screams. A few painful agonizing seconds, where Jackson felt like he was alone in the world again.

“I’m here.” Miller said, holding him close, kissing him, trying to scare the nightmares away.

Jackson surrendered to Miller’s touch, the familiar touch that had helped him forget his nightmares in the early days of the bunker. The touch of a lover that chased the pain away.

This time, there was no need to flee to medbay or look for an empty closet. They had this private room, this room all to themselves, and after Miller had assured a worried Octavia and Niylah (who had also shown up at the door) that he’d take care of it, he closed the door, leaving them alone in their own little world.

Miller kissed his way along the long column of Jackson’s neck, across his pecs and further down, pulling off their underwear and leaving them bare to each other. Miller took him in hand, encouraging Jackson to rest back, to try to relax, if that was something he was capable of in this post-nightmare haze.

“Just focus on me.” Miller whispered in his ear. “Don’t think of anything besides my touch.”

“I’m trying, Nate.” Jackson panted. “I’m trying.”

Jackson closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on Miller, on his sweat-slick body up against his own, Miller’s hand on his dick and his hand on Miller’s, bringing him higher and higher, until they both soared over the edge of their release, bodies releasing tension against each other as they kept contact, not wanting to let go.

For the first time though, the shadow of the nightmare didn’t abate. It stayed, hovering over him, even as Miller went to get a warm wet cloth to clean them up. Even as Miller curled up behind him, holding him close, pressing soft kisses to his skin.

His eyes stayed open, even as Miller encouraged him to sleep. The nightmare was waiting for him, he knew. He knew it would still be there as soon as his eyes closed again.

Eventually, exhaustion did win out. Exhaustion and the warm whisper of Miller’s breath on the back of his neck as he drifted into sleep as well.

* * *

_Jackson walked the halls of the Eligius IV, expecting the machine hum that he was used to in space to calm him, but instead all he heard was the sound of clanging swords and screams of people dying, though he couldn’t see them, and they stayed with him no matter which halls he turned down. The sounds of war, the sounds of the fighting pits, were still present in this place of peace, like he could never escape them._

_He turned the corner, and saw Octavia sprawled on the ground ahead of him, soaked in a pool of blood. He didn’t think, he just ran, dropping to the ground next to her, hand instinctively pressing against the wounds on her wrists, though he could already tell that blood was no longer flowing, that it was too late, she was dead._

_“No.” Jackson whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he pulled a hand away from her wrists to close her unseeing eyes, leaving smears of blood across her pale face reminiscent of her Blodreina mask. “No. I’m so sorry I failed you. I wasn’t here to save you like I promised I would be, I’m sorry.”_

_Jackson stayed there, holding Octavia’s body, until he heard a clatter in the hallway up ahead, and heard a mechanical voice saying “Please close inner airlock doors. Sixty seconds to outer doors.”_

_He put Octavia back down on the ground gently and ran for the next hallway, wondering why the airlock doors were open. They didn’t have any mechanics present, no one who could be doing work on the ship, so whatever was happening wasn’t good._

_He made it to the airlock just as the inner doors closed, and he saw Niylah on the other side._

_“Niylah, what is this?” Jackson asked. “Don’t do it. Open these doors. Please.” He pressed the door button frantically, but it had been disabled from the other side, and he couldn’t do anything._

_She shook her head tearfully. “I can’t. I can’t take this anymore, Eric. I can’t sleep, I can’t - I can’t be trapped in this box anymore. I’m done, I’m sorry. I need to be with the stars again. Please tell Octavia I love her.”_

_The outer airlock doors opened, and Niylah was gone._

_“No!” Jackson screamed, even though he knew it was too late, there was nothing he could do to save her._

_“It’s all my fault.” Came a voice from behind him._

_Jackson turned to see Miller, his eyes raw and cheeks streaked with tears. He was rubbing his cheek with the back of one hand - a hand that held a gun._

_“Nate.” Jackson said softly, moving towards him at a careful pace. “Nate, put down the gun. What do you think is your fault?”_

_“They’re all dead. I killed them. It was me, it was this -” he waved the gun around. “They’re dead and it is my fault.”_

_“It’s not real, Nate. What you saw.” Jackson whispered. “It’s not real. You’re having another flashback. You didn’t shoot anyone.”_

_“But I did. I’m sorry, Eric. I can’t live with myself. Not after losing them, and knowing that I could do it to you too. I can’t lose you like that. I can’t risk it. I can’t. I love you. I’m sorry.” Miller pressed the gun to his own temple._

_Jackson jumped towards Miller screaming “NO!” as the gun went off._

Jackson woke up screaming again, this time with Miller holding him, and Miller was glad that he’d wrapped the sheet around them, because Jackson’s renewed screams brought Octavia and Niylah back to their door.

This time Miller encouraged them to come in, and they both took up spots on the bed, holding Jackson’s hands as he shook, eyes wide and screams slowly subsiding to whimpers, still not ready for speech.

“I haven’t seen them this bad before.” Miller said to the women. “I don’t know what’s happening.” He began rubbing Jackson’s shoulder with one hand. “Eric, talk to us. We’re here.”

“You weren’t.” Jackson whispered hoarsely. “You weren’t.”

“What do you mean?” Niylah asked. “You were alone here?”

“No. No. I - I lost each of you. One after the other. I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t stop you - all of you - there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t save you.”

“You’re an amazing doctor, Eric, but even you have your limits.” Miller said. “I know it sucks, but it happens. You can’t save everyone. Not even in your dreams.”

“That’s not what he means.” Octavia said, rubbing her free hand over the bandages of the other wrist. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Jackson looked at Octavia’s wrists, and then up to her face. He nodded. “I - I couldn’t save any of you from the dark memories and fears that have been tormenting you. I lost each of you. My closest friends, and I couldn’t do anything to save you from yourselves. Like the universe was punishing me, punishing me for what I’ve done.”

“For what you’ve done?” Octavia asked. “If there’s anyone with the least amount of blood on their hands here, it’s you and Niylah. Why would your dreams be punishing you?”

Jackson looked away. Maybe it was time to tell them. Time to be honest about what he’d done, even if it was in the name of mercy.

He struggled to a seated position, Miller moving up with him and pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Talk to me, Eric. Talk to us.” He whispered.

“I - there’s some things you don’t know. None of you.” Jackson started. “I’m sorry, I - I just couldn’t talk about it. I was ashamed, even though it felt right, even though it seemed most merciful, I - I didn’t think I could say it.”

“You can, Eric. You can tell us anything.” Niylah said, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

“I - in the bunker, if people were beyond saving - sometimes I would put them out of their misery. So that they wouldn’t have to suffer. I took lives instead of saving them. That goes against any oath as a doctor, and so to punish me - I - I guess this is what my dreams do. I lose all of you.”

“Eric…” Niylah trailed off. “You’re not the only one. I have done the same. Any healer has. There is a point at which it is a greater mercy than letting someone suffer. And part of your oath is also to relieve suffering, isn’t it?”

“It is. But I still feel like I failed.”

“You did everything you could to save those people. There’s a point at which you can’t anymore. And I think you know that. May I make a suggestion as to what I think the real issue is?” Niylah asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Your mind feels guilty that you kept this a secret. It isn’t about what you did, it is about keeping secrets when you think the rest of us have put all of our painful cards on the table, as it were. And that you kept the secret either because you didn’t think your pain was as worthy as ours, or that you didn’t want to burden us because you feel that as the doctor you’re supposed to take care of us, not the other way around. Believe me, I know what that feels like. I’d - I’d been doing the same.”

They gave Jackson time to mull over Niylah’s comments, keeping him company in silence, keeping him close so he knew he was safe.

“I… I guess it’s possible.” Jackson said. “It’s possible.”

“We all respond to trauma in different ways.” Octavia said. “That’s what you told me. We’re all a bit broken. And we lean on each other to be strong. That applies to you too. We’re all here for you, like you’ve been here for us.”

“So let us take care of you.” Miller said. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know.” Jackson said, being honest. “If I sleep again - it’ll be back. I know it. Unless I can find a way to stop it. But I don’t know how.”

“Would it - and I realize this would end up putting all of us on the spot - would it help if we discussed the particulars of that nightmare?” Niylah asked.

“Maybe?” Jackson looked down. “I - it was horrible. I don’t know if it would help any of you to talk about it though. I worry it might make things worse for you.”

“No deflecting.” Octavia said sternly. “We’ve all spent the last few weeks talking out our problems. We’re each acutely aware of what we’re dealing with. You’re not going to make us worse. We need to hear from you to help you get better.”

Jackson sighed. “Okay. I - I saw you first, Octavia. I - I’d gotten there too late. You’d cut your wrists and bled out. There was nothing I could do, even though I promised you I’d always be there - and - and it terrifies me. That that could happen.”

Octavia squeezed Jackson’s hand. “Would it help if I say it terrifies me too? I - I don’t think about it consciously. I don’t plan for it to happen. The rational part of my mind knows I’m safe, that I’m with people who love me, that I don’t need to be afraid anymore - but the irrational part doesn’t know that.”

“Why is it only happening now? Why not in the bunker, while everything was still going on?”

“Well, you’re the medical professional, not me, but if I had to guess - in the bunker it occupied my conscious mind some days. But I never did it, save for the controlled circumstances, like feeding Wonkru. Because I had a mission, even in the darkest days. Now, I guess, the lack of that mission, and spending each and every day with all of these thoughts instead of focused on survival - I guess that’s what has brought it out. I hope it doesn’t last, I promise you that.”

Jackson nodded. “Okay. Niylah - I - I hope this won’t make things worse for you. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“It is getting better. I’ve been getting some sleep at least. Please, Eric.”

“After - after Octavia, the ship warning system said that the airlocks were being opened. I ran to them, but Niylah - you were already in between the outer and inner doors. I couldn’t stop you. You said you couldn’t take being trapped in this box anymore. You needed to be with the stars. You told me to tell Octavia that you loved her. Then the outer door opened and - and you were gone.”

Jackson watched as Octavia reached over to clutch Niylah’s free hand tightly, worry in her eyes.

_“Naila? Yu laik ku?”_

_“Sha, ai niron.”_ Niylah whispered. “I’m okay. I will be okay. It hasn’t been easy, but - I wouldn’t leave you like that. I wouldn’t ever.”

“I need you to live. Not just for me. But for yourself too. Promise me. Even if something happens to me, promise me - promise me you’ll live.”

“I will. I promise.” Niylah sealed her promise with a kiss. “But you still better not be going anywhere yourself.”

Octavia smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Each day is a fight. But each day is a fight I’ve won. I promise I’ll keep fighting.”

They were all quiet for a minute, processing everything that had been said, until Jackson finally turned to Miller with an agonized look on his face.

“Yours was the worst.” Jackson whispered.

“I’m here. Trust that. I’m not leaving you, okay?” Miller pressed their foreheads together as Jackson nodded, even as tears threatened to fall.

“After - after Niylah was sucked into space, you appeared behind me.” Jackson started, voice shaking. “I - you - you said it was your fault. You said that you’d killed them. Shot them. You were holding a gun. I told you it wasn’t real, it was just another flashback from our darker days, but - but you said you couldn’t risk doing it to me too. You wouldn’t risk me. So you put the gun to your temple, and - and I wasn’t fast enough.”

Miller let out a long breath. “I won’t lie to you. I’ve been worried about what the flashbacks could do to me. Could make me do. If I would hurt someone, like I did Octavia that first day. I’m guessing the implication of ‘them’ referred to Octavia and Niylah?”

Jackson nodded. “I think so. Since my dream had already killed both of them.”

“Well, the guns are locked up. I don’t know who has the key. Perhaps it is best it stays that way. I am scared, Eric. I’m scared of what could happen. What I could be capable of.”

“We’ve managed it so far.” Jackson said. “We have, haven’t we? Nothing’s happened. We’re all safe, aren’t we?”

“We are.” Niylah said. “But as we all know, our unconscious minds are harder to convince.” Niylah said. “But I think we’ve released and addressed some fears and worries here, haven’t we? Eric?”

“I think so. I hope so. But - but I still don’t want to sleep. I’m sorry, but - but it is just too fresh.”

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Octavia asked. “From the One Thousand and One Nights, the stories that Scheherazade told the sultan every night, and he wanted to hear the endings so badly that he kept her alive instead of executing her after one night, like he had done with his other wives. And then he fell in love with her.”

“I hope that’s not a pick up line, you’re not moving in on my man.” Miller said, half-joking.

“Don’t worry, Miller.” Octavia punched him lightly in the arm. “He might like girls sometimes, but so do I, and my heart belongs to one alone.” She kissed the tip of Niylah’s nose, making her giggle.

“I’d love a story.” Jackson said, blushing as it made him sound five years old. But there was no judgment in the eyes of anyone around him, no judgment from his friends and lover, who he knew all loved him dearly.

If they could keep the nightmares at bay, he’d have to try.

Octavia settled in against the headboard, stroking the top of Jackson’s head as he lay back down, and she began her story. Jackson concentrated on her words and the touch of her hand, the feel of Miller pressed against his back, the weight of Niylah’s hand on his knee.

It helped, for awhile. But as Octavia’s story continued, the rhythm of her voice was so soothing it lulled him back under, exhaustion taking over again.

This time, when he came to with screams, all three of them were there, not letting him go, not letting him sink into the dreams again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor bunkerfam:( But they're slowly healing. Together. There will be happier stories coming in this 'verse soon :)
> 
> Henceforth "bunkerfam" will also be referred to as "Fourkru", this name provided by RomanoffonamoR as a more specific way to refer to our favourite Octavia&Niylah&Jackson&Miller quartet. Thanks for the name!


End file.
